irs he had been kept on parole by
Roger, and compelled to reside 'at home.'

Towards five o'clock he went out, and took train at South Kensington
Station (for everyone to-day went Underground). His intention was to
dine, and pass the evening playing billiards at the Red Pottle--that
unique hostel, neither club, hotel, nor good gilt restaurant.

He got out at Charing Cross, choosing it in preference to his more usual
St. James's Park, that he might reach Jermyn Street by better lighted
ways.

On the platform his eyes--for in combination with a composed and
fashionable appearance, George had sharp eyes, and was always on the
look-out for fillips to his sardonic humour--his eyes were attracted by a
man, who, leaping from a first-class compartment, staggered rather than
walked towards the exit.

'So ho, my bird!' said George to himself; 'why, it's "the Buccaneer!"'
and he put his big figure on the trail. Nothing afforded him greater
amusement than a drunken man.

Bosinney, who wore a slouch hat, stopped in front of him, spun around,
and rushed back towards the carriage he had just left. He was too late.
A porter caught him by the coat; the train was already moving on.

George's practised glance caught sight of the face of a lady clad in a
grey fur coat at the carriage window. It was Mrs. Soames--and George
felt that this was interesting!

And now he followed Bosinney more closely than ever--up the stairs, past
the ticket collector into the street. In that progress, however, his
feelings underwent a change; no longer merely curious and amused, he felt
sorry for the poor fellow he was shadowing. 'The Buccaneer' was not
drunk, but seemed to be acting under the stress of violent emotion; he
was talking to himself, and all that George could catch were the words
"Oh, God!" Nor did he appear to know what he was doing, or where going;
but stared, hesitated, moved like a man out of his mind; and from being
merely a joker in search of amusement, George felt that he must see the
poor chap through.

He had 'taken the knock'--'taken the knock!' And he wondered what on
earth Mrs. Soames had been saying, what on earth she had been telling him
in the railway carriage. She had looked bad enough herself! It made
George sorry to think of her travelling on with her trouble all alone.

He followed close behind Bosinney's elbow--tall, burly figure, saying
nothing, dodging warily--and shadowed him out into the fog.

There wa